


Stress Relief

by Masu_Trout



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angry Kissing, Choking, Consensual, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-15 08:05:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13609110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masu_Trout/pseuds/Masu_Trout
Summary: Junkrat is the cause of all Roadhog's stress. It's only fair that he should be the solution to it too.





	Stress Relief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linguamortua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linguamortua/gifts).



The hotel room was dingy, sparsely-decorated. Safe, or at least safe enough. No one had managed to follow them out of that wreck—Junkrat's last little explosion had made sure of that.

Roadhog could still feel the heat of it on his skin. His back felt raw. Probably he was missing some of his ponytail, too. It smelled like it, at least, though with Junkrat being the way he was there really was no telling who the burnt-hair stench was coming from this time.

Beside him, Junkrat tossed a duffel bag full of clanking metal to the floor and surveyed the room with a manic smile. “Look at us! Moving up already, eh, Roadhog? Knew this was a great idea.”

Roadhog let a rattling snarl slip from behind his mask. Fuck, he was angry. He kept replaying that final moment: Junkrat with his fingers wrapped around the detonator, holding and holding and waiting even as Roadhog snapped at him _detonate it!_ , so obviously desperate to feel the blast even if it meant killing them both.

His own fault, really, for letting the situation get that close to the wire. Wasn't like he didn't know who Junkrat was. Normally he would've taken off into the desert for a bit, shot some targets or killed some scavengers until the weight on his shoulders didn't feel quite so heavy anymore, but this wasn't Australia. There was no open desert to roam and no opportunity to get away for a bit when he just couldn't deal with his partner in crime.

Anyone would have snapped, he felt. Maybe not everyone would have been strong enough to grab Junkrat by the neck and throw him against the hotel wall, though.

Junkrat hit the wall with a hollow _thunk_ —cheap construction, shitty drywall—and then flopped sideways onto the bed. “The fuck?” he snarled out, coughing. “What's crawled up your arse to die, huh?”

Roadhog growled and took two steps forward so he could loom properly. Not that it was hard even with Junkrat standing up; Junkrat was taller than most, but _taller than most_ and _taller than Roadhog_ were two very different things. 

“You almost got us killed.”

Junkrat, unbelievably, laughed. “I know! Wasn't it amazing? Thought we were goners for a minute there.”

With a noise of disgust, Roadhog leaned down and wrapped his hand around Junkrat's neck once more. Not enough to hurt. Not yet. “Our deal doesn't involve you getting me killed acting stupid.” He let his hand tighten just a moment in warning. “So shut up and start coming up with some plans better than the ones you've got, boss.”

Junkrat tilted his head up to stare directly into the mirrored lenses of Roadhog's mask. He smiled, showing off a mouth full of broken-glass teeth. His Adam's apple bobbed against Roadhog's hand as he swallowed, and then he said, “Make me.”

That was all the goading Roadhog needed for his patience to snap like a frayed piece of rope. With one hand he reached up and yanked his mask off; with the other he squeezed until he had Junkrat crowded up against the edge of the bed and sucking in shallow lungfuls of air. 

His mouth found Junkrat's easy, and from there it was nothing more than anger and pure bestial instinct, tempered just enough to keep from actually wringing his neck.

Junkrat moaned when Roadhog finally broke for air. He still had that crooked smile on his face, and his chest rose and fell shallowly while his pulse hammered against Roadhog's skin. Whether he was breathing hard because of the kiss or because or because Roadhog hadn't loosened his hand all the way—well, that wasn't Roadhog's concern.

“That all you've got?” Junkrat asked. “I hardly even—mmph!”

He shut up in a right hurry once Roadhog's mouth was on his again. Cheeks flushed red and his lips bitten and bloody to match, a slightly dazed look in his eyes, _silent_ … he almost looked halfway to handsome like this. (Or at least a quarter of the way there, anyway; Roadhog's standards weren't exactly the highest after how long he'd been alone. Normal people might have sense enough to flinch away from the spark in his eyes.)

It was no Outback, as far as stress relief went, but if this was what it took get a bit of peace and quiet Roadhog would gladly take it.


End file.
